It's War
by alwaysxsaidsnape
Summary: What does Blaise think when Theo is sleeping next to him? What does Theo think when Blaise holds him so tight? How will this work when there is a war outside their four poster bed?


Theodore Nott is by far one of my favorite characters.  
>I think he is entirely enigmatic and so I love writing forwith him.  
>This is one of the many ships I have him in. Don't judge me for the style.<br>Second person has been scratching at my brain for a while.

Enjoy!

* * *

><p><strong><em>Blaise to Theo<em>**

He sleeps like there isn't a war going on outside these walls. How can he sleep so peacefully when any moment someone can come bursting through those doors to pull the two of you apart? You rarely sleep and even when you manage to find sleep it always is a torturous mistress. It comes with nightmares and terrors beyond your waking imagination can fathom. But he sleeps as you press up behind him and you wish that you could see what he sees when he sleeps. You wish that you could ask him what his dreams are about when he wakes but you know that he won't answer.

Theodore never talks about much, he never says much of anything even when he comes crawling into your bed at all hours of the night or even the evening when people can see him. There were times when you used to push him out of bed just so no one would know just how much you wanted him there, but he wouldn't complain. Instead, he would just glance at you with those empty brown eyes of his and go back to his own bed. You weren't sure if he was hurt or just dismissive of you altogether. That was the most infuriating part of it when you started sleeping with him; the utter lack of emotion that he displayed at any given time. He was an empty shell waiting for you to fill him and fill him you did each and every moment you were given the chance to do so.

It was all so carnal and delicious in that fact. You loved to use him and feel him give in to the way your thumbs applied pressure to the sacral dimples at the small of his back forcing his hips up higher offering his ass to you like a cat in heat. He always wanted it and you always were willing to take everything that he was offering because he was so much better than you. So much better at hiding what he was feeling, so much better at being the pureblooded son, so much better at not being manipulated by his peers. But when he was beneath you that was not true; you were better than him then because it was he who was giving into you and you were the one taking it from him. Every strangled sound, every drop of semen, and every inch of naked skin it all belonged to you. You took his future too even though he didn't know it, every time you made him come on the sheets you stained the fabric with his future heirs.

Every time you two fucked you won because you owned him in those moments and it felt good to own someone who publically was seen as better than you. It was a bittersweet victory because he did not even try to fight you for dominance. He just bent over like a good boy, arched his back for you just the way you liked and purred your name in that specific way that went straight to your dick. It was like he knew what you wanted without you having to tell him so and part of you hated him for that. What you wanted was none of his business because you always kept what you wanted so close to the chest that he was too close to your heart for comfort most of the time. Maybe it was the fact that he spent so much time knowing you better than anyone that led to the emotional attachment you developed for him.

First it just started as your general annoyance of when he would come to your bed and not want to do anything but lay there because he had been with someone else. You could easily tell because he always came to you freshly showered every time he climbed in after being with someone who wasn't you. The scent of his shampoo never used to bother you till then and you could barely stand to touch him. If someone else had spent the couple of hours pleasuring him, riding him, sucking him, biting him then you were not allowed to. Theodore never liked doing two people in the same day, but it wasn't that fact that annoyed you it was the fact that he needed to sleep with anyone else other than you that bothered you. So you often threw him out of bed then only to regret it after you tossed and turned for two straight hours because you couldn't get comfortable in the bed without his solid frame next to yours. You had become accustomed to his breathing which soothed you so you always forced him back.

Each time you forced him back he fought you on it in that passive aggressive manner of his. When he says nothing and keeps his back to you the entire time and despite the fact that you cannot usually be so easily angered his incessant dismissal of your presence does it. So you grab him too roughly and bruise his pale skin, you push him down into the bed and he looks up at you with unreadable brown eyes. It infuriates you more to see that not even this display of anger frightens him that is until you raise your hand to hit him. In that moment you see fear flare up in his eyes and you hesitate because his mask is broken and you can see beneath it. There was a scared boy beneath you nearly cringing at the idea of you hitting him and you broke down on top of him. You broke down and kissed him so passionately that it nearly burned your lips and surely bruised his. That was the first time you saw behind the wall he always kept up to guard himself and you couldn't have been more grateful for it.

Little by little he let those walls down a bit further; he actually started telling you what he was thinking when you caught him staring at you. Any little thing that he felt like saying he said and you found yourself wishing for his silence once more. Despite the fact that you had wanted all those words, he was taking it a bit too fast and a bit too far. Perhaps you had broken some kind of dam in his mind because he was the first one to admit that he had feelings outside of just lust in this relationship. He actually cared about you; he actually _loved_ you. That was one of those moments when you wished he would go back to not sharing what was on his mind because it frightened you. You didn't know what to say so you said nothing and that sent him back into a black hole of silence. But you tried to convey you loved him through how you kissed him, how you held him, how you never wanted him to be too far away. He must have gotten the message because he stayed.

And now you are sure he is all yours. Only because he never comes in late in the evenings any more, he never climbs into bed with damp hair and skin, and he never leaves before you wake. Whether you admit it aloud or not this, whatever it may be, is official.

**_Theo to Blaise_**

He never sleeps and you can only tell by the lackluster look in his eyes in the morning, you don't bother asking why anymore. You have come to realize that some people fear what is to come, but worrying about stuff like that was never your thing. So almost as soon as his arm slides around your waist do you fall asleep not because you don't care that he's scared and certainly not because you're not scared yourself, but because your dreams are the safest place you know. Sometimes you wonder what people think you dream about, but you're half convinced that they are sure you dream of nothing but death and pain. That wouldn't be the surprising answer, but that would be the wrong one.

Dreaming is the second safest place in the world to you and that's why you are so quick to enter them as soon as your eyes slide shut. In your dreams you know that the pain isn't real and you control what happens to you. That's what matters; the control. Most of your life was spent under the thumb of a man that would sooner beat you than actually listen to reason and even after the beatings stopped he still got to you. He was the only person who could manage to penetrate the thick skin you had developed over the years. That was why you learned apathy so you could save yourself from his verbal abuse, but even that came to a stop after she died. Your mother. Maybe it was because she died trying to defend your right to be your own person and make your own decisions that made him stop, but you know better than that. He was disappointed in her for being so weak as not to make you the man you should have been; after all, that's why he killed her right in front of you. That was his way of letting you know that he wasn't above doing _anything_ to get what he wanted from you and now you had no one to lean on or hide behind. He killed her to further expose you and like a predator enjoying the fear of his prey (as hard as you tried to hide it) he just watched you squirm.

But the squirming is over and he's dead now. So you dream about your mother without worrying about a monster looming in the shadows. You dream about how she used to tend to the busted lips and black eyes with salves and the tip of her wand. She healed you in so many ways you never got to thank her for so you spend most of your dreams telling her you love her. The way she smiled has stayed with you even after all these years and you can't imagine ever forgetting it because it is the only reason you were ever able to cast the Patronus Charm. No one would be able to understand that it was a smile that was at the core of your happiness but it didn't matter. You have only ever told one person about the memory and he is the person that sleeps behind you every night with his arm so tight around your torso. So tight that when he tightens it even a bit more it stirs you awake.

When did it start getting so tight? He used to just drape an arm casually around your waist just to make sure he could sleep the way he wanted to sleep. Blaise used to sleep with a full body pillow that he would hold just like he was holding you and that was why he always assured you that you shouldn't feel special that he held you so close. You were a replacement for his pillow, but now he keeps an arm tight around your waist as if he is afraid you'll slip away if he's gentle about it. Then again he's not gentle about much; Blaise has always been a bit more aggressive with you than you've seen him with any of the others he's been with. Of course, he doesn't know just how much you used to watch him and study his habits. Like the way he used to touch Daphne like she was a delicate flower one moment then like she didn't exist the next. But still he was never rough with her and to have her tell it, he was very gentle in the bedroom. You know a different side of him and you often wonder if he does it on purpose.

Who abused him that made him want to be the abuser? And why of all people do you let _him_ abuse you with every thrust of his hips, every clutch of his hand to your hips? Not to say he was the first one you let take you because he certainly wasn't, but you never did stick around after the fact. Not for long anyway. But here you are even after he spent nearly an hour pounding into you, riding you till you were raw and tugging at your hair so hard that your scalp was nearly left bleeding. Not to mention the bite marks, you don't even bother to complain about the marks he leaves behind anymore. There is no point in saying that he is marking something that isn't his because you stay so that must be a lie. You are his, it is why you come for him when he hisses your name in your ear and it is why you prop yourself up so eagerly for his assault. It doesn't matter that he rarely strokes your dick to get you off when he rides or forces you to climb on top and bounce till he's milked dry.

You gladly do all the work for yourself because when you do get off it's like nothing before, it's like the whole world is alight with pleasure and your body can barely contain it. You forget the burning in your backside from him ramming into you, you forget the burning in your arms from keeping yourself propped up against his endless movements, and you forget the pain that is throbbing in your skin due to each mark his teeth and fingers have left you. All you can remember is the white-hot pleasure that is searing in your core and the haze that has filled your mind. The pleasure is all encompassing and you fall into it with open arms because to date he has caught you each time. It used to be with rough kisses that would only last a few moments, but now those kisses transformed into slow sensual tidings of adoration that you relish in. You have to remind yourself that it's _sick_ that you feel safe with him in those moments in the same way you felt safe with your mother. Who does that? Who thinks of their mother when they're with their lover? Apparently you do.

But you turn around in his arms not even caring if he knows you're awake or not; not even caring that he is probably awake plagued with thoughts about the impending war outside these walls. You wish he could just give in to the moment like you have, just remember that he has you right now and the war is not touching this for the time being. You say nothing though even as you steal a glance up at him and find him staring off into space. For a moment, you remind yourself that he prefers your silence more often than not. Talking only makes him uncomfortable now and it was all because you had used the _L word_ and he hadn't been prepared for it. Control seemed to be something he craved too, but you knew that it was something he couldn't quite grasp because he wasn't as well-endowed in power and reputation as you and Malfoy were. It was harder for him to come into power because his name wasn't one of the greats. He fought so hard to be part of Malfoy's world while you were trying so hard not to be sucked into it.

Opposites attract right? Well, you're not so opposite in the end and you know it. He just refuses to see it because that would mean that you once again figured something out about him that he wasn't trying to reveal. If only he understood how much you didn't care for his reputation or his name then maybe he could just come to terms with the fact that he loves you. Yeah, he loves you and you know it. Let the war rage on, you've won the only one you were fighting and you survived. He's yours.


End file.
